Veracity
by Altavian
Summary: 1986. Before all the madness, before a girl lost her voice and before a boy lost his body. A modest lady slowly going against her will, and a man slowly dying of sickness. What events will bring them all together and lead them to the present?
1. Chapter 1

_Notes: Published 09/08/14 / Edited 11/08/14_

* * *

She was running. Running quite quickly, to her grotty, rusted bike. She had a five minute limit, and after this she'll be free for the day.

Chell was an employee at Aperture Laboratories, a facility just south from the blooming city in Upper Michigan. It was built inside a disused salt mine, leading the levels deeper, not higher. On the outside, it was a low-risen, shining white building whose appearance was on top priority. Contrary, the interior was degrading past the lobby.

Chell didn't know the reason behind any of this. She hardly understood how and why Aperture ran and what it ran for. She didn't know why the head of the laboratories disappeared suddenly, only to come back hooked up to bulky, noisy machines today. He ordered her to run an errand before allowing her to be dismissed, the one she was rushing to get right now.

She tucked up her lab coat, tying the ends around her waist. Forget the fashion disaster—as least the fabric won't get caught in the bike. The wheels refused to turn without sheer force, and Chell grunted loudly as she willed the metal to turn.

Out from the laboratories' parking lot, past the cold treat parlour. Her hair was a mess, the hastily tied ponytail travelled with the wind. The hardware store was just half a mile away.

The roads were quite lonely today. Chell went full speed and covered the distance in a couple of minutes. She dashed into the hardware store, where the cashier had her order on the counter, all set and ready. They knew how hard Cave Johnson was on his employees. An exchange of cash for extra nuts and bolts, and Chell was on her way back.

She had three minutes left, more than enough time to return, and let herself relax, her shoulders untwisting from the tenseness it has as Cave Johnson returned today. Even though she was set on his team of Highly Capable Humans and spent her youth around him, the man was intimidating nonetheless. It was a very sunny day; there was not a cloud in sight. The sun was just above the horizon, right about to set. It was Chell's favourite part of day—it was when she saw the last of the sun, fully, before dipping under then bringing a new world with a million little twinkles and her precious moon.

Paying too much attention to the sky, she didn't realise that there was a man on her path, gazing up at the sky with as much wonder she had in her eyes.

Then she hit him, and her instinct made her thought it was him against her, not her against him. Aperture was located on a lone road, ending to at wild-life habitat just past the gates. She had heard stories of scientists employed there going missing, and then turning up, dead in a ditch a few weeks after. The impact wasn't as harsh on Chell's side as it was for the man. She got off the bike immediately, almost thrown off, not uttering a single word.

The man had a lanky figure, mostly covered by a thick, beige coat— not odd, but surprising, since the first leaves of autumn just started falling—and he was on the floor, spluttering coughs. Chell apparently hit him right in the shin.

Finally understanding that the situation wasn't a threat to herself, since someone so affected by a hit in a shin couldn't do her harm, she opened her mouth to apologise, but he spoke over her.

"It's alright, it's alright, I'm fine," he said, willing himself to get up. "Go on." He took a look at her ID card, which was stationed at her right chest. "Aperture laboratories, is it? Management's tough there, I know. Maybe it's right to get going—"

He was interrupted by the screech of her bike tires. It was rude, of course, but it was true—management's tough at Aperture.

Six minutes. A minute late, she was. She chucked her bike forcefully on the curb, grabbed what she had to deliver, and ran her way through the lobby, up the rails, and into Cave Johnson's office.

Except it wasn't him who was there—It was Caroline, his faithful, modest assistant, always by his side. Cave and his bulky life support were nowhere to be found, leaving the rendered walls and carpeted floor of his office free from the slight hum of vibration.

"Oh, Delaney,"—that was Chell's last name, one she took from her adoptive parents who disappeared three years ago—"Thank you. Just hand that to me and you're free to go off."

Chell handed the package to her, and Caroline smiled at her. They look very similar; maybe it's both the dark eyes and dark hair they share. Chell pulled her lips to a smile too. Caroline could see that she had dimples, just like herself. The coincidence was funny at first, but after observing it closely, Caroline believed there was a reason why. She was in deep thought when Chell dismissed herself.

When Chell left the room, she took a deep sigh—she was expecting something much. Then she let out a dense laugh, since her lab coat was still tied around her waist. She wondered what the man she ran over thought about it.

Out the window, the sun was setting, giving the sky an orange hue. Chell took off her coat and her ID, leaving them in her personal drawer. She wore a tank top under her button-up, along with some jeans. Summer was just ending, after all. She fixed her ponytail and grabbed her bag, before leaving the facility for the day.

Her bike had suffered damage from her throwing it on the ground. The chain came off the chainring. She landed on her knees, sighing, and spent some time screwing them back together with the wrong tools. The night was cloaked in darkness when she stretched out, rubbing her hands on her jeans.

Strangely, the roads were once again isolated. She went at a slower pace this time, not in a rush. But just past the ice cream parlour she felt a thud, and a familiar cry as she almost hurdled to the ground.

Chell caught herself on her legs before she fell, her bike skittering on the pavement again, but for the other party otherwise. Once again, the man with a beige coat was sprawled out on the sidewalk.

This time, she spoke first.

"Sorry," was all she could manage out at first. Then she took a deep breath and tried again. "I am really sorry. Twice in a day—seems unlikely, but—"

"It's alright," said the man. He gave up on trying to get on two feet and just sat in the gravel, cross-legged. "I'm not hurt or anything quite major. Funny, meeting you again like this. Coincidental, too, yeah? I was just on my way back to that dessert place, you hitting me first made me forget my change."

Chell was surprised. This man, with his blond hair sifting through the moonlight, held much more surprises in a day than what a science facility could produce in a year. Seriously, not hating her for almost killing him? That's a new one.

"I'll have to pay you back for hurting you."

He put up his hands, as if in arrest. "No, no, it's fine—I wasn't really hurt in the first place. Um…help me up, would ya?"

She took his extended arm and pulled him up. For his thin figure, he was quite heavy. It became imminent how tall the man was. He probably stood a difference of five inches from Chell's full height, but the wave of his blond hair made him look taller.

"You were going to that ice cream place?" Chell asked him, once he dusted himself off.

"Yeah. I fancy a bit of dessert 'round this time of night. And last time I went there I forgot my change."

"I can pay for you."

"No, no, it's alright—I mean, it's absolutely fine…well, to be honest, quite odd, I don't even know your name…."

She picked up her old bike, but didn't get on it. "Chell."

"Shell? Like those lovely little things on the—"

"Chell. With a C. That's my name."

"Oh, alright, Chell." He smiled, the corners of his lips just slightly rising. "Chell. Nice name. I like it."

She started walking.

"Where are you going?" He said, dashing after her. "Oh—oh, okay, the ice cream parlour. Sorry, I understand now."

Chell didn't speak, but there wasn't any need to—he took up all the conversation space.

"If you're really not pulling my leg with the free ice cream thing, I'll have mint chocolate. Also, I'll grab the seat—I like it outside, with the moon. You alright with that? It'll be right by the first window to the left. Not really hard to spot."

She parked her (now broken) bike on the curb and was about to disappear behind blue tinted glass doors when he called out to her.

"Chell!" She turned around to look at him. His figure looked very unnatural under the full moon's light, but it gave him a haunting aura that well fit him particularly. "I forgot to tell you. Haha, oh, that rhymes. Anyway—my name. It's Wheatley."

"Wheatley," she said, softly.

Even with a few feet separating them, Wheatley could still hear her. "Yeah, it's Wheatley—quite dull compared to yours."

Chell smiled, the first genuine smile she gave today, before turning back into the small, bricked building.

Wheatley chose a tiny table with two seats away from all the others. It was right next to the corner of the parlour. One of its key features was that it gave a breathtaking view of the moon without any forest blocking it.

Chell came out just moments later, with one cone in her hand, sporting a three-tiered mountain of mint chocolate. Wheatley's mouth fell open when he saw what he got her.

"You really shouldn't have—"

"No," she cut him off. "You deserve it, Wheatley."

While he was enjoying his sorry-for-running-you-over-twice-in-a-day treat, Chell took this time to gaze at the street. She didn't see cars passing on the street. More accurately—she didn't see anything on the street.

"Chell," Wheatley called out after he had finished, her name soft on his lips. She turned to face him, and then with the moonlight hitting the right spot, his deep blue eyes seemed to glow. They bore into her soul, but they also had a manner of amiability. "You—you work at Aperture Laboratories, right? I saw your ID on a while ago. When you hit me first, yeah? Must be nice there, I've always wanted to work with science. Without the management problem. Well, I just wanna try it out first, maybe I'm not suit for it."

"We've got a test subject offering going on," said Chell, looking down to her hands to avoid glaring at his eyes. "It's part-time, but there's lots of science in it. Can you think with portals?"

"What? Portals? Those vortex things? Like tornadoes?"

"You don't know what a portal is?" She raised her head to meet his eyes again.

Wheatley leaned back on the plastic chair in defeat. "I always wanted to be close with science, but that doesn't mean I had the chance to."

Chell smirked. This Wheatley was an entertaining boy. "Oh, really? Science isn't the greatest thing to be up close and personal with. Cave Johnson—the head of Aperture, by the way—he disappeared from the labs once, and came back with all these machines hooked up to him. He's slowly dying."

"Is that why the laboratories doesn't have visitors anymore?" She could hear him gulp. "All I see are cars running away from it. I reckoned it was something with bad management that kid at the hardware store says—I didn't even think it would have to do something with…toxicity. And poison. Or, you know, whatever's causing him to dwindle…." He stopped looking directly at Chell—_maybe it made her uncomfortable?_

"The heads are too hard sometimes. Maybe that's another reason."

There was a silence between them. Not an awkward silence, but a general soft lull of conversation. Both of them felt slightly tranquil. Wheatley broke the silence, clearing his throat before speaking again.

"Have you—have you ever got in contact with those…You know—what's killing him?"

"Me? No. I don't do the dirty work or the gels. I'm an errand runner for the higher-ups. Unless it spreads through paper and documents, I think I'm fine."

Wheatley let out a contented sigh.

"Were you worried that I could have contaminated you?"

He faced her, showing an embarrassed look on him. "To be honest, yes, don't take it too seriously, please—"

"Don't worry. It's quite common for me."

Chell's face didn't show any sign of emotion in that moment, but Wheatley couldn't help but feel bad for her. "I'm sorry," he said softly, standing up. "Also—it's getting late. Might be taking up your personal time. Thank you…Chell."

"Goodbye." She didn't leave her seat, and Wheatley took this as a sign to go.

He just reached the exit when he heard the clamouring of plastic chairs and a sight breath, calling out his name.

"Chell?"

"Your—your test subject thing. Are you free tomorrow? Can we meet here around noon? I'll get it all sorted out for you."

He smiled, a generous, honest smile. "That would be great, thanks—thank you, Chell."


	2. Chapter 2

Today was very tiring, but refreshing.

Chell was lounging on her bed, her body sprawled out, the bed stripped clean of its covers. She often liked to sleep on it without any filter from the wind. She was that type of person; up and front.

It's rather late; that man she almost killed twice, maybe, took an hour out of her planned schedule. Chell didn't really mind him. He was refreshing. Her bike breaking down made her even more behind. Even though she spent more time out in the sun than she had planned, she wasn't sleepy at all.

Chell listened to the gentle melody from her radio before slowly drifting off to dreamland. Hopefully. Chell ceased to have any dreams since she started working for Aperture—when she was sixteen. It was both a dream and a nightmare being there, and after three whole years, she couldn't decide which one was more appropriate for describing Aperture.

The lights were already off and she was all set and ready for a good night's sleep when the phone rung.

For a split second, she thought it may have been Wheatley before she picked up.

"Thank God," it was Caroline, sounding very anxious over the static. "Delaney, I know it's late, I'm sorry, but there's something wrong with Cave. No one else would pick up. You've got to get to the laboratories now—I can't do this myself."

"What happened?"

"He collapsed. I can't pull him up. It must be that toxic moon dust—I always knew there was something odd about it, but I couldn't bring myself to speak up…."

Slamming the receiver down, Chell put on a thin coat and some boots, grabbed the keys to Aperture, just barely remembering to lock the door before getting on her bike and pedalling as hard as she could down the road.

Wheatley didn't want to go home today. Last time he was there, he fell asleep on the couch and woke up in the shower; he still doesn't know why.

Luckily for him, the night was just the right temperature, with no rainclouds looming in the sky. Set with the fact that no one came by Aperture nowadays, he had a pretty good resting spot on the almost rotten bench obscured with some branches. Well, if no one had tired legs, that is.

His back was laid on the thick, beige coat he brought around often. It was suave, a soft material: perfect for sudden bedding. He had his glasses resting on his chest, rubbing his eyes; it had been a long day.

Then he heard a sound—a whirling sound. It sounded like sixty thousand bees coming his way. Wheatley sat up in alarm, putting his glasses on again; but he could then hear the metal clanking along the whirling, saving him from running as fast as he could away from the trees.

He spotted the bike right away. Immediately, he knew who it belonged to.

Chell was rushing too fast she didn't hear him call out her name. Once again, her bike got the dirt treatment as she ran into the facility.

Aperture looked dark in the full moon, in contrast with the white walls it presented in the clear day. The glass doors were still left open, with Caroline looking out them, holding an arrested look on her face. The moonlight made her seem to glow, since she was wearing her all too famous white dress this evening.

"I thought something had happened to you," Caroline said as soon Chell was in earshot. "The call just cut off—"

"Where's Mr Johnson?"

Caroline stepped back, shocked. Seldom her employees spoke over her. _But this is Delaney, she thought, it's expected._

"I—In the office overlooking test chamber sixteen," she was saying, starting to lead Chell to where Cave Johnson was. "I pulled his wheelchair down there…but I wasn't strong enough to lift him up. He's just on the floor…."

And there he was, laid out on broken glass and droplets of conversion gel. His breathing was shallow, and Caroline looked away, feeling his pain too.

Chell immediately went to help, kneeling carefully on the broken glass, making sure that no conversion gel—or to her, gross sticky white stuff—got on her skin.

"Could you bring that to me?" Chell already heaved Cave up halfway, but was struggling keeping his wheelchair in place.

Caroline held it firmly, and Chell brought him there alone. She was a very strong girl, capable of being independent in almost every situation. Caroline brought him back to the decaying lobby as Chell carried his portable life support.

"Thank you," Caroline said as she locked all doors past the lobby. "He just wanted to see how the laboratory was going. I didn't reckon he was—" she stopped dead in the conversation. Chell was confused.

"What's—" Caroline brought her finger to her own lips, signalling silence to Chell. She had heard something rummaging behind the front desk.

There was a bottle of pepper spray she had with her always tucked in the pocket of her dress. She quickly brought it out, got into position, slowly inching closer to whatever was behind the counter.

Caroline had frequent attempts on her life. Being Aperture Science's best asset, she was a force to be reckoned with for all rivalling companies. Well, Aperture only had one rival, but it was an aggressive company, often taking huge risks to jump above Aperture.

There was another sound of clanking objects, and whoever was spying on them took their flashlight out first. Then their head.

Caroline aimed right between their eyes.

It was Wheatley, yelling that all too familiar scream of pain. His round glasses protected him from most of the spray, but a few droplets couldn't help but irate his eyes.

He started coughing as Chell and Caroline were both too stunned to do anything. Wheatley stumbled back a bit, trying to speak. "What—what was that—my face, it feels like it's on fire—what the heck was that, Chell?"

_Chell._

Caroline felt her world slow down for a moment, only focusing on her. _Chell._ That was the name of her only child, the one that she left on a doorstep to keep her away from the horrible wrath of science about twenty years ago.

Caroline never took care to learn the first names of her employees. She felt guilty. If this Chell was her Chell, the Chell who was to be safe, far away from any of this, Caroline could laugh. Fate always treated her horribly.

Shaking out of her daze, she reassured herself that it was a pretty common name nowadays. Being a woman of science, she didn't have time for "Names of the Year" tabloids anymore. _It's a common name,_ she told herself. _Don't worry about it anymore._

But something was still nagging her, settled in the back of her mind.

Wheatley looked okay, for being exposed to pepper spray. Caroline had seen the affects of a full dosage emptied on one's face. Their eyes would swell up to the point of blindness, just thin buttons on a red face. They would not be able to breathe or speak for a few minutes. At the worst, he would be suffocated, dead by his own skin.

All he had was a slightly swollen right eye. In the dark, it didn't seem that there was anything wrong with him unless you were around a metre from him, just like Chell.

She was dabbing her jacket on his eye, telling him not to cry out in pain. "It's going to be all right," she said. Caroline felt a great rush of affection for her assistant. Chell was both very strong physically and emotionally—anyone would be lucky to meet her. Except Caroline wouldn't be lucky at all if she…_No, it's not the time to think about this._

Wheatley's eye made him look like he just recently woke up. There were no more tears coming out, and Chell stopped assisting him. "It's best to not touch it after cleaning it up," she told him. Her hand was seated on his shoulder, a friendly gesture, but Caroline read too much into it.

"M—my apologies," Caroline stuttered. She felt protective of Chell in one way or another. "I am sorry. I had a stressful day, and not once I stopped to think that who ever was intruding would be so close to Delaney." She held out her hand, recovering her conscious.

Wheatley took it after a moment. His hand was calloused, rough against Caroline's soft skin. It was embarrassing—once he got his hand back, he automatically wiped it on his grey sweater, since in his rush he had forgotten to bring his jacket. It would be a miracle if he returned and it was still there, not inhabited by squirrels or blown away by the wind. Both he and Chell kept quiet, afraid of Caroline's new aura.

Caroline felt insulted. "Anyway," she started, forcing herself to go on, "You're…Wheat—Wheatley, correct? It's nice to see you have a…close bond with my assistant." _I can't do this. I can't do this._ "Take care of her."

Chell's eyes widened like saucers as she understood what Caroline was implying. "No—no, it's not like that. I just met him today. I ran over him twice."

"That's certainly…original."

The three of them felt small, even Caroline. Chell unconsciously moved away from Wheatley, her face sweating a bit. Caroline felt sorry for her. But for the third time today, she forced herself to look at the matter at hand.

"Mr Wheatley," Caroline said, regaining her air of poise, "even though you are a close friend of…Chell Delaney, there was no reason for you to trespass on property."

He opened his mouth to complain, but Chell had already come up with an alibi and spoke over him. "I was with him when you called me," she spoke rapidly, a complete difference from her usual airy self. "While I was rushing, I forgot…my…watch."

"Your watch?" Caroline raised an eyebrow.

Chell forced out a laugh. "You know how bad I am with time, heck, I took six minutes instead of five, back then hours ago."

Caroline did not understand anything she was saying, and just nodded, faking agreement.

"I'll vouch for him," Chell continued, changing the topic. "If you're gonna fine him for trespassing, just take it out my pay."

Wheatley was startled. "Chell, you don't have—"

"I wasn't going to charge him anyway," Caroline cut him off, grabbing the handles of Cave's wheelchair. "I'm not that kind of person. You're both dismissed. Thank you." She pushed him, struggling a bit, out the glass doors.

"I'm sorry—I," Wheatley started once Caroline was full out of earshot. He brought his hands to his face, seemingly to shield himself from whatever Chell had to say to him. "I saw you on your bike. Biking down here. You looked worried and I—I thought the worst. My fault. I'm sorry."

She didn't answer.

Wheatley sighed. _I knew I wasn't destined to have any friends._ "I know. I'll—I'll be taking my leave—"

Chell punched him in the shoulder.

It was meant to be a friendly punch, like all those surfer dudes on television did, but Wheatley was caught so off guard he stumbled over. His arms and legs were all out of place, and Chell was on the floor too, laughing loudly.

Wheatley couldn't help but laugh too. And they both were on the rough, dull carpet of Aperture Laboratories, holding their stomachs tightly, laughing their asses off.

Wheatley was panting quickly when he spoke again. "What—what time is it?"

"I don't know."

"You're supposed to be the one with the watch."

"You're supposed to be the one who brought it to me!" She hit him again, much more lightly than the time before.

Wheatley chuckled. It was genuine, but a laugh of exhaustion. "It's really late," he told Chell, looking through the entrance to see the moon. It was dipping under the horizon, and he could only tell from it's light. "You—you should sleep. Work tomorrow, right?"

Chell stared at her pyjama bottoms. "Yeah," she answered, her voice lowering.

"Don't—don't look so down," his tone was rising frantically and nervousness. "Sorry," he managed to get out, before taking a deep breath and standing up. "My fault, really. But you do need your sleep either way."

He let out a hand for her, and Chell took it naturally, as if it was something both of them did every day.

"It's okay," she wiped all the dust from her clothes. "You too—you know—sleep."

"Right."

"Yeah."

She hated this feeling—one moment they can feel like friends with a long history, but another moment passes and they're strangers passing by on the pavement again.

"I'll be going now," Chell forced out, lunging quite hastily for the door. "I can bike you home if you'd like."

Wheatley felt embarrassment. Chell shouldn't know that he spent half of his nights on a rotten bench. "No, no, no—No, that's okay. It's fine. Thank you."

She thought something was wrong, for him to suddenly outburst like that. But, for once in her life, she felt too scared to speak her mind.

She held the door out for him, and then locked the lobby. Maybe Caroline absconding made her forget about everything else. Understandable. Chell shrugged to herself.

"I—goodnight, Chell." Wheatley refused to meet her eyes. Staring down at his shoes, he slowly backed away from her. _Too much of a good thing can be a bad thing, right?_

"Goodnight. Are you sure you're going to be okay alone?" She had her bike out and ready now, straddling it.

All the tiredness of the situation suddenly hit Wheatley, and he felt exhausted. "Yeah—yeah, I'm pretty sure," he said, combing his hand through his hair to keep him awake. "Thanks—Thanks for everything, Chell."

"Bye, Wheatley." She started pedalling away from him.

"Bye," He replied. But she was already half way down the road, probably with something else on her mind.

Wheatley turned back to the rotten bench he often had made home. Luckily, there wasn't squirrels playing hide-and-seek in his jacket, and it didn't get blown away, leaving him uncomfortable the whole night.

Laying back down on the suave, he wondered if Chell would keep her word about tomorrow—and realised how great of a friend she was. To him, it was odd calling a girl you met by getting squashed by her bicycle's tires a friend, but he felt not calling her so would be an insult.

Chell was a very good person, just taking his fines in a heartbeat. He couldn't repay her for what she had done for him this entire day, but maybe, he could settle the debt just a little bit tomorrow.


End file.
